A Star to Guide Them
by Genieva was a Diver
Summary: A look at Harry and his parents over the years, from his childhood, leading up to his departure to serve on the USS Voyager.


_This is my first_ **ST:V** _fic. I really love the fandom, it's one of my all time favorites. I particularly enjoy Harry, and always like to write a story about him and his family. I feel he could of been a much stronger character if he had the chance. If anything here is inaccurate (especially my Chinese or things about Harry's family), I apologies! I still have not seen the whole series :O_

_A big thank you to my beta reader _**Lenn.n.n**_ Eid murbarack to all who celebrate, and Happy reading!_

* * *

Harry feels a hand on the small of his back again and sighs. Every day for thirty minutes, he stands in the front room with his clarinet and his stand, the coffee table pushed out of the way. This is the third time he's been stopped, and he's only been at it for twenty minutes.

"_Zhan zhi le, Harry_," his mother reminds him.

He insists, "I'm trying. My back doesn't_ go_ that straight!"

He reads the music sheet again, takes a deep breath, and attempts the bar once more. It's pointless, he decides. The clarinet drops from his mouth and he turns to her. She looks back at him, her short dark hair just above her shoulders, her gaze steady. In her hands is a pair of socks.

"I'm no good at this."

None of his friends have to practice musical instruments, why should he? On top of the clarinet, his mother also wants him to learn the piano, and to take singing lessons. He's only one boy! He can't do it all.

"_Ji xu lian xi._" She takes hold of his shoulders and spins him around.

"I am. It's hard."

Holding up a shirt to the light, she inspects it for missed spots, and then begins folding it. "It's new, of course it's hard."

Harry heaves a great sigh. "Can I be done now?" he asks hopefully, stealing a glance at the clock, and then to the open window. He usually stands in such a way that he can't see either, however his mother is busily folding laundry today.

"Ten more minutes."

"Just this once? Pleeeease? I'm 'spost to meet the guys."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Harry!"

Despite laughing, he can tell she is beginning to become annoyed. There still might be a chance, though."_Mama,_" he tries to reason with her, "_qiu qiu ni le. Wo bao zheng wo deng yi zia jiu zhuo. _I promise!"

"You'll do it now, not later," she tells him, frowning from between the legs of a pair of pants. "Well? Hurry up. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can go."

His face twists up into a pout, until a stern look from his mother sets him straight. The look is gone in an instant, and he reluctantly gets back into place, watching his feet carefully. He doesn't see why learning to play the clarinet is so important, but he knows better than to tell her that. Besides, his nainai told him that if he was good, when she and waipo came to visit, he would get a special surprise, and her surprises were always fantastic.

He finishes up his full thirty minutes, packs up his clarinet in it's case, and stores it under his bed, next to a model space ship he and his father built. He stares at it for a few moments and then sprints down the stairs, pulling on a jacket and heads for the front door. He slips into his shoes and calls out to her that he'll be back before dinner.

* * *

He's late, but maybe no one has noticed. He runs in, kicks his shoes off and drop his jacket; he runs to his room, and then back a moment later to put everything away neatly before anyone sees.

He makes it to his chair at the table just as his mother is bringing around the last side dish, grinning at his father who smirks and shakes his head.

"_Harry, ni nar qu le?_" his father asks.

"I've just been hanging out with the guys," he finally says, trying his best to appear casual.

"Uh-huh," his father mutters to himself, and starts to fill his plate.

"Yup."

"With who, exactly?"

"Mark, Lance, Jarred," Harry says, shifting food around on his plate. "and Jarred' cousin."

His father tilts his head thoughtfully. "Ahh. Lance, is he the one I like?"

"You like Harry's friends?" his mother teases, laying a napkin across her lap. "Since when?"

Harry smirks.

"As a matter of fact, I like the boy with red hair," his father says matter-of-factly, leaning across the table. "He's very polite."

"That's Jarred," Harry says, grinning.

His mother simply raises an eyebrow and rolls her eyes, a smile stuck in the corner of her mouth.

* * *

Dinner goes off without a hitch, and eventually Harry finds himself sitting cross legged on the floor, between his parents on the couch; watching television while his father reads. He retires to bed early as he always does, wanting to get a good night's sleep for work the next morning. Harry's mother so occupied with her embroidery she doesn't realise he's five minutes past his bedtime. He enjoys this time, when all he can hear is her breathing and the sound of sewing.

It has been a long day, but now it is time to sleep. Hand in hand, Harry walks up the stairs with his mother, to his bedroom, and lets her tuck him in. He's a little old for it, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her.

"Mom?" he says quietly.

She runs her hands across his blankets, flattening them. "Hm?"

"Someday, I'm going to travel all over, and see all the galaxies ever. Maybe even the entire universe."

"I know you will Harry," she says with a soft smile.

"Good," he sighs, as if a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders. "But I was just thinking... I might, well... I might miss you and dad."

His mother gently sits on the edge of his bed.

"Oh?" she responds, as though she's heard him say this several times a day.

"Really, I will." Fidgeting under the covers he asks, "but you'll miss me, too, right?"

"Of course we will. But that won't be for a long time. You're not grown up yet!"

"I know," he says with a shy smile.

She checks the blankets and sheets again and leans down to kiss him goodnight.

"Ok, time for bed."

"Wait!" he cries, suddenly sounding like a small child.

His mother turns, and by the look on her face, Harry guesses she expects him to ask to stay up late. She doesn't look mad though which makes him feel better for asking so many questions today.

He crawls out of bed and grabs her hand, pulling her to the window. "I got you something. Sort of."

"What? Why?" she asks, approaching the bed again. "It isn't my birthday, is it?"

He points at the sky, then looks at her expectantly, a big grin on his face.

"I don't understand?

"See that star?" He points. "That one right there? It's for when I go away," he explains. "That way, even when I'm far away, we can still be close, 'cause maybe we can see the same star."

"It's perfect." She smiles and then runs her fingers through his hair and kisses him again.

"Now go to sleep, okay?"

Little Harry nods his head and snuggles down underneath the covers. "Night. _Wo ai ni._"

"_Wo ye ai ni. _Lights out."

He keeps watch until she vanishes out of his room and then down the hall. He thinks about all the places he will go when he got older, and about all the different people he will meet. Before he knows it, everything is quiet, and he is asleep.

* * *

She's been waiting for this day for over 10 years.

Harry looks so handsome in his uniform, and she's so happy for him, but at the same time she's filled with dread. He hasn't even left yet and she misses him. He's done so well for himself. He's charming and intelligent, he knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. She realizses that he's an adult now and that he can make his own decisions, but does he really have to be so far away, for so long?

Harry makes his way down the stairs, fixing the wrists of his uniform. He looks to be a picture of pure calm, but she can tell that he's nervous. Thrusting her own anxiety aside, she smiles and approaches him, taking him by the shoulders.

"You look wonderful, Harry."

"Thanks," he says in that shy little-boy voice.

"_Ni shenme shi hou yao chu men?_" his father asks.

"Um, actually I'm early," Harry responds, clapping his hands together and laughing nervously. "I'm still waiting for Eric; we're leaving together."

"Ah," he responds, nodding some. "_Ni chifan le ma?_"

Harry smiles. "I already ate."

"_Xi shou jian?_"

"Already used the restroom, too."

"Ok, ok. You sure you packed everything?"

"I'm sure. Pretty sure. At least I hope so. If not, I'm sure I can get a hold of a replacement, no problem."

"It's not the same, you know." His father shakes his head, frowning. "Better double check."

She watches the two of them spend Harry's last few minutes home talking about this and that, and she feels her heart swell. She won't cry, at least not until he's left. She knows him, if she cries, he'll leave feeling guilty, and she can't do that to him. Instead, she smiles, nodding and joining in when there's a lapse in conversation.

Before long the front doorbell beeps. Harry inhales deeply and everyone is quiet.

"I guess it's time to go."

His father comes over to congratulate him and wish him well. Harry quickly sobers up, accepting a handshake and a pat on the back. Then it's her turn. She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tight.

"It's _OK_, mom. I'll be home soon, I promise."

"I know, Harry, I know," she whispers in his ear. "You're right, it is OK. I'm just so happy for you. We're going to miss you."

"I know,. I'll miss you guys, too." He pulls away from her and although instinct tells her to hang on, she loosens her grip. He smiles at her. "But hey, I'll write whenever I get a chance."

"You better," his father warns.

"Don't worry, you'll hear so much of me you'll be sick of me." He bends down and begins to pick up his luggage. "Anyway, Eric's waiting. I have to go."

"Good luck, son," his father calls after him. "Let us know when you're promoted, hm?"

"Thanks dad." Harry simpers.

"_Zhu yi an quan!_" his mom says.

"Safe is my middle name," Harry jokes as his father helps him with another bag.

"_Shui ge hao jiao!_"

"A full eight hours, mom, I promise."

"_Bie wang le chi fan!_ Real food, none of that replicated nonsense."

"_Mom_," Harry laughs, turning every time she calls after him. He gestures toward the door. "I have to _go_!"

"I know. Go, go, go! Goodbye, Harry, I love you!"

"Love you too, bye!"

He's gone in an instant. She wishes she had gotten to spend more time with him. She should have made time, ignored the dishes for once. She sighs and decides to go out into the garden for a couple of hours.

* * *

Sunday evening, Mary is wrapped in a blanket on the balcony, sipping at a cooling mug of coffee and watching the sky. In a wooden chair beside her, sits a black clarinet case. Every time she catches sight of it, she frowns.

She had been so upset when she found it under Harry's bed. How could he have forgotten it? To make matters worse, she wasn't even able to send it to him. _No time_, Janeway had told her, _terribly sorry._

As she sips at her coffee, she hears her husband arrive home from work. Guilt begins to weigh heavy on her, for she hasn't shared a proper mean with him in weeks. Luckily, he seems to understand, as he himself as been detached lately as well; worrying in his own quiet way. The changes in him have been subtle, hard to miss if you don't know him intimately, but upsetting all the same. There are times, however, when he looks her in the eye and smiles sadly, and tells her that everything will be all right.

"_Mei you wan can le mah?_" he asks casually but softly.

She simply shakes her head and leans into the balcony more, wrapping the blanket around herself tighter.

He sighs deeply, and then goes back inside.

Mary also sighs, and runs a hand through her hair. She can't stay here forever, frozen, like a statue; she has responsibilities. Still, she finds it difficult to remover herself from this spot. The weather has been chillier than usual lately, and it is often foggy in the morning and evenings. Rain or snow, however, she is determined to keep a constant vigil.

And who could blame her? Her child is out there, somewhere, and no one is telling her a thing. They assured her, two weeks ago, that it wasn't unusual to lose temporary communication with a vessel. She isn't stupid, she knows that, but it's nearing an entire month, and she knows without a doubt that something just isn't right.

"_Ah 'Li_," John whispers into her ear suddenly, tugging the mug of coffee from her. "_Come to bed_."

"_Bu lei_," she replies flatly, sinking into his embrace.

"_Ni bixu. Ni xu yau xiu xi._"

She feels her eyelids grow heavy, and for a moment, she almost gives in. But she can't sleep. Not yet. Not until exhaustion forces her to.

His grip loosens, little by little, until his arms are barely around her. They stand together for what seems like hours, him rocking her as she watches the sky. Finally, stars begin to dot the sky. She struggles to recall the conversation with Harry long ago, the tiny boy with the brilliant smile, pointing to the sky. She almost panics when she can't immediately spot Their Star. Then she does, and she feels herself relax.

Tomorrow, she thinks she may tell her students about her son, and assign them to each write someone dear to them.

"_Ah Yue_." She gently pats his arm. "_Ah Yue?_"

"Mm?" the man breathes. He sounds as though he's nearly dozed off.

"Go to bed."

He reluctantly does as he is told, but not after kissing her gently on the head and temple, and giving her hand a soft squeeze.

"Harry will be OK," he tells her tiredly. He yawns, patting her shoulder, and steps inside, murmuring, "he's a smart boy."

Later in the evening, she makes sure that Harry's clarinet is in his room, on his dresser, before she goes to sand by the window. She wonders how far from home her boy is, if he's afraid, if he's starving, if he's even alive. And when she can no longer keep her eyes open, she crawls into bed alongside her husband and waits for exhaustion to claim her.


End file.
